


CPR

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, CPR, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Sharickyl, Threesome, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on tumblr: sharyl/rickyl, accidental drowning and CPR. I decided to go with sharickyl because there is not enough of this wonderful threesome, and Daryl always needs more hurt/comfort from as many people as possible.</p><p>During a run gone bad, Daryl ends up almost drowning to the point of needing CPR when he's not breathing. Shane and Rick try their best to bring him around, and deal with the aftermath of such a traumatic event.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CPR

Winter in Georgia was fucking insane. Summer lasted nine months of the year, and summer was just heat, heat, heat and then some more fucking heat on top. But the winter? Winter in Georgia was three months of chaos, and it seems since humanity had fallen, well Mother Nature was making up for lost time. There was no more encroaching of industry, no more pollution, no more manmade problems that would affect the weather. So nowadays it was damned unpredictable. Weekends no longer existed, there was no system, no rules, no way of them knowing what was coming until it just up and caught them off guard.

The rain is shit. Because it’s not just a little rain, it’s a lot of rain pretty damned fast. It rains so hard that it hurts when you get caught in it, you can feel every drop hitting you and it’s like a wave of aches that get caught in your muscles afterwards. It makes him hate having to go on these runs, with the weather as bad as it is; it makes it feel like the whole world was against him. The rain is never ending; puddles and lakes of water pooling around the prison yard, flooding the farm and making them all sigh and watch from the windows. Everyone was jammed inside, hiding from the weather, complaining about it and practically sitting on top of one another since there was a limited amount of space.

A-Block was still in the middle of being repaired. The roof wasn’t complete yet, the power didn’t work right, and the rain was coming through the holes and making it more of a swimming pool than a cellblock. It wasn’t safe for people to be in there, so for the time being everyone was crammed inside C-Block and making the best of it. Having so many people means they don’t have the time for a lazy day now. Supplies were needed and with the farm being swamped it means they’re more in need of food than usual.

So they volunteer to go for a run. Each time they got out they’re having to go further and further away from home. The prison wasn’t exactly local to any towns or cities, more an island in the middle of nothing. Well except for Woodbury, but nobody was going back there anymore. Shane knew it would be the three of them again, it always was, and since their cellblock was full of everybody else, privacy was a luxury that didn’t exist lately. Going on a run gives them a chance to breathe. Maybe they weren’t going to try and find a safe house to bunk up in, but he knows it’s easier for both Rick and Daryl if nobody else can see them be close.

Rick hasn’t exactly found a way to tell Carl yet. Lori’s death is still fresh in both of their minds, and at no point does Shane want Carl thinking his father is disrespecting the woman who died to bring her child into the world. They’re both still mourning her, but somehow during their grief, they’d only gotten closer. Shane had found his best friend again, and whatever anger he’d held towards him had evaporated when they’d kissed for the first time. Well first time as adults.

Sure as kids they had messed around. Teenage boys trying to explore each and every avenue they could, just knowing it felt good and they wanted to do it more. It had just been fooling around, just touching, dry humping, beginning to learn how intense and amazing orgasms could feel. But that’s all it had been, shared secret nights over each other’s houses, asking questions and exploring together, finding out about their own bodies as well as each others. It had ended, just naturally stopped when they found girlfriends and other people to explore with. They were still best friends, still close, but that side of their relationship had stopped.

Until now.

Shane can’t say he doesn’t understand it. When he’d thought Rick to be dead he’d turned to Lori for comfort. Now after she had passed away, he’s turning the other way instead, and looking for comfort from Rick. Maybe that first time had just been two desperate men looking for some kind of release from the crazy world they lived in now. But it had continued, stopped being so desperate, and started being soft. Light kisses shared between them, hidden hugs and spooning together on the narrow bunk in their cell. No one thought twice of them sharing a cell. Best friends. A grieving widower needing the closeness of his best friend to help him get through the long nights wasn’t anything to think twice about. So it had been small, but it had been needed, and now it was definitely not just a phase of exploring for both of them.

They’re together. A pair. Closer than ever. And honestly Shane found it easy enough to take it all in his stride. He knew Rick. Rick knew him. Things were easy, felt just like home.

Then there was Daryl.

Shane knew they’d both been looking at him. Both of them could appreciate a nice body when they saw it, and it was obvious that Daryl had a nice body. Nice ass too. All three of them had gotten close lately. That long winter on the road really kicked their asses into gear, making sure everybody could shoot and defend themselves. But where he and Rick could give weapons training and take down walkers, there was more to surviving than that. Daryl had the knowledge they’d needed. They could defend the group as long as they liked, but without Daryl’s input about hunting, about scavenging, about what could be eaten when they were sleeping in the woods without any supplies, every single one of them would have died.

They made a good team the three of them. Three legs of a tripod. The leader in Rick. The hunter in Daryl. And the defender in himself. It worked. It had kept them all safe, gotten them to the prison, made them stronger. They were close. They were a team. It worked with three of them together.

It had been his idea (as most good ideas were) of course. With everybody crammed inside the same cellblock they’d been forced to all bunk together, to try and get everybody somewhere half comfortable to sleep. Naturally he and Rick were already sharing, with baby Judith in her crib in the corner, and Carl refusing to share a cell with his father. Shane hadn’t said it, but he’d been relieved when Carl had acted like the typical teenager, and demanded to be able to share a cell with the kids his own age. It meant he could still bunk up with Rick without forcing the other man to try and explain their new relationship to his son. It also meant that there was enough space for Daryl to drag his mattress inside from the perch, complaining about so many people being in the same block, but clearly relieved that he could share a cell with those he felt comfortable around.

Daryl had already known about them. Maybe it was obvious to anybody who wasn’t an innocent teenager, or maybe Daryl really is as observant as he claims. Either way it was dealt with on the first night easily enough. He and Rick had been ready to split up for the night and sleep apart, ready to hide their little secret from even their closest ally. But Daryl had scoffed, told them to quit acting like they were guilty for something, and practically forced them to share their bunk as they usually did. There were a few grumbles, Daryl threatening to beat both their asses should they disturb him with anything x-rated during the night, but all in all they figured it was kind of Daryl’s way of giving his blessing.

So things had been fine for a while. Their little hidden relationship continuing in the background of their daily lives, just the two of them enjoying each other and being there when the other needed. But he’d seen it. Seen the way Daryl would sometimes look over to them during the night with a longing gaze. He could see when the hunter would bite on his lip and take a little longer than necessary to look away if one of them was shirtless. It was kind of clear that Daryl was inexperienced, and that clearly he was the kind to look and savour what he could get, instead of reaching out to try and get what he wanted. Besides, if he knew the pair of them were together then he probably thought it was a done deal.

Poor guy didn’t realise that sometimes three really was a magic number.

He’d started it. One night, when everybody else was asleep and it was becoming more and more painfully obvious that Daryl was watching them together, enjoying them together, craving something more than just their friendship. He’d been on watch, come in after the change of shift to shrug off his shirt and join Rick in bed for a few hours. But Daryl had still been awake, sitting up against the wall and carving an arrow by lamplight. Judith was asleep, Rick was too, and the poor guy just looked so damned lonely by himself. Distant. Part of a family but apart from them at the same time. Shane didn’t want that, and he knew Rick didn’t either.

“Can’t sleep?” He’d asked, tossing the shirt aside and crouching before Daryl, arms on his knees and seeing the way the other man’s eyes trail over his chest slowly.

“Nah.” Daryl had shrugged, shaking himself, looking away and clearly reprimanding himself as he turned back to his arrow. It had been easy to see, easy to read, and Shane had known that there was no way Daryl was ever going to be brave enough to take the first step. “Was thinking about how we could get more food around here. Maybe set some traps for rabbits and get some hutches goin’. Would give us something more reliable than hun-“

He’d been expecting a punch. Maybe a yell. Maybe the end of his friendship with the hunter. But Daryl hadn’t done any of those things. Instead, he’d been surprised to find the first reaction to his kiss, was the tiniest whimper into his mouth.

When the kiss was over, he’d pulled away, just enough to meet Daryl’s eye, to see how the other man felt about his bold move. There had been a flush to his cheeks, and so much confusion in his eyes that Shane had felt bad for putting it there. Of course he’d smiled, reached up to cup Daryl’s face and land another kiss to his mouth. There were more wonderful noises, small sighs, little moans, and still that whimper. God it had been delicious. He’d wanted more, wanted to share everything with Daryl right there and then, but it had been new, raw, and Daryl had pulled back with a shake of his head.

“Shane what’re you doin’?” He’d sounded frantic, worried, scared almost. “Y-you can’t just…” Then he’d gone silent. His eyes wide, hands withdrawing from Shane’s shoulders as he’d looked beyond him and over to the bunk.

There had been Rick. Awake, watching them with a curious look in his eye. It had made Shane smirk, because they’d been discussing it for a while. Sharing showers and thinking out loud about Daryl being brought in to this thing between them. Shane saying the dirtiest of his thoughts into Rick’s ear, the two of them pressing into each other and moaning over the shared thoughts of how fantastic Daryl would taste. And now he’d taken that chance, taken the first step and he knows it was the right choice.

“Rick…” Daryl had sounded so damned small when Rick had gotten up from the bunk. Sauntering over to them with nothing but confidence despite the situation. “It weren’t… I wasn’t…” The hunter had stumbled over his words, drawn in on himself and pressed back against the wall he’d been leaning against. When Rick crouched down to get to the same level as them, and reached out a hand to cup Daryl’s chin, the hunter had flinched. That had hurt, but they had both figured out what Daryl’s life had been like before.

So they hadn’t backed off. Instead Rick had hushed him, leant into Shane’s warmth to show their solidarity, and then pressed his lips to Daryl’s in a mimicry of his earlier action. There had been another whimper, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and before he knew it Rick had reached back to bring him in to their little bundle on the floor. That night they’d been together for the first time, just exploring Daryl, letting him in, sharing themselves and letting the other man know this wasn’t just a game for them. It was something they’d been wanting for a long time, and they wanted Daryl to be a permanent part of it all.

Over time it had grown. The months passing meant they all grew stronger, tighter as a threesome, one relationship with three people and no jealousy. It was their secret, their little thing between them all in their cell at night, to explore and help grow together. But with everyone in one cellblock, and the rain not letting up, it meant there was no privacy even in their own cell. So getting to go on a run together was an escape for them all. They’d eagerly volunteered, gotten in the truck, and headed out together, leaving the prison in everyone’s capable hands as they took some time for themselves.

The rain continues to fall hard as they drive, the kind of rain that would usually make people loath to go out. But they’re desperate, they know they need more supplies if the weather keeps up, and the three of them were a connected team to take on the job. So they drive, the rain falls and floods the roads around them, and they head closer and closer to Atlanta.

The city is dead. Walkers still clustered together there, like some deep ingrained sense of belonging still ran through them and told them they were meant to be in a city. They’ve scoped out as much of it as possible lately, making sure to know which roads were safe, which were cut off, and where they could enter the city safely. They park up just outside of the city, careful over the concrete that surrounds them as they leave the jeep in their usual spot. It’s a safer bet to stay outside of the city limits and go in on foot, and they had a way that worked for them all.

Sewers.

Sure it stank of shit, piss and other disgusting things, but after you got used to the smell of decaying human tissue in your nose everyday, you don’t get as grossed out anymore. The huge outlets on the edge of the city are a damned safe way to navigate the city when they didn’t want to think about walkers. There was the occasional one or two down there, but the hoards were on the streets, and down beneath them was relatively safe. The sewer lines followed the street layouts mainly, and you could get yourself right at a building’s front door without having to watch your back once. It worked for them, and even if they only take back packs in, it still means they get a lot of different supplies they can use.

Today is not a specific run, it’s just one for them to grab what they can. Daryl has some ideas about hitting up any tattoo and piercing shops, figuring that they have plenty of sterile tools that could help their medical needs, and others might not have checked them. Rick wants to try the office buildings, knowing that some of the richer folk would have personal weapons in a safe or something in their offices that they could use. He’s just in it for the random haul, willing to pick up anything they might need.

Together they make their way through the sewers, walking in a row on the narrow paths to the side of the water, and complaining about how the weather has made it a real river inside the sewers instead of the usual trickle. It’s not the usual Georgia weather they’re used to, but it made a change from the norm. Least it keeps the walkers bogged down in mud, and they slip easier, more than likely to lose their footing and be less of a threat. It makes it easier to just breathe for a while, and the three of them make their way further down the main line into the city.

“Tell the truth Daryl.” Rick smirks, one hand on his holster and the other on his knife as they walk. “You don’t think there are medical supplies, you just want to see about getting some new ink.”

“Pfft.” Daryl scoffs, shaking his head, hair in his eyes as he walks with them both down the pathway. “Ain’t nobody left who could do it to my standard.”

That makes Shane laugh, because he’s got his own ink, and he knows though he loves all of his work, even he has some that he regrets. “Standard?” He teases, yanking at the back of Daryl’s shirt, lifting it enough to see the edge of the demons on his back, before Daryl swats at him and makes him let go. “I’ve been all over your body, and sure you’ve got some nice ones, but I reckon even I could manage a friggin cross or a star. Heck get me a tattoo gun and some ink, I’ll put mine and Rick’s names on your ass cheeks for you.” He grins, running his tongue over his lips at the thought.

“As if.” Daryl snorts, nudging at his side as they laugh together. “Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you write it in marker, but you ain’t getting nowhere near me with a tattoo gun.”

Rick is grinning, joining in on the conversation and Shane is a little put out by what he says. “I wouldn’t trust him with a pen either Daryl. You seen his handwriting?”

“Hey!” Swatting at his best friend he can’t help but smile, enjoying that even after the end of the world, he and Rick could still just heckle each other amicably. “I just want to tag what’s mine is all. Gotta protect the goods from prying eyes.” He explains, reaching out to pat at Daryl’s butt, snickering when the other man huffs and spins to face them.

“Who said I was yours?” Daryl cocks an eyebrow, walking backwards to watch them for their answers.

“Well you were moaning my name last night. Think that’s gotta count for something right?” He points out.

“Hey he was almost screaming mine.” Rick chimes in with a shrug, looking cocky and proud of himself for it. “Think that means I’m the favourite.”

Again Daryl snorts, turning on his heel to face forwards, walking alongside them again with the slightest flush across his cheeks. If Shane shines the flashlight up a little he can just catch the edge of it when Daryl speaks. “Stop.”

Rick laughs through his nose, reaches out to run a palm over Daryl’s side and soothes him a little. “Don’t be mad Daryl, Shane’s just being a possessive idiot again.”

Daryl grumbles for a little while, huffing and playing the wounded card, as if he was above all this petty banter. As if he wouldn’t stoop to their level. But of course Shane can see his grin, can see the way he’s trying not to smirk when he scowls and tries to act serious. “Would’ve thought the bite marks you left on my ass was more than enough proof anyhow. Couldn’t barely sit after.” Daryl points out, but even if he’s trying, there is no venom in the words, just a playful attitude.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it Dare.” He chuckles, running his tongue over his teeth a little as he remembers just how much it seemed the other man had liked it last night.

“He never said he didn’t like it. Just said it was inconvenient was all.” Rick points out, tilting his head like he has a solution to it all. “Think next time we should choose somewhere else. Somewhere he won’t have to sit on after.”

“Yeah but he’s not gonna be able to sit after we’re done with him anyway.” Shane shrugs, and he’s always been one to try and fix problems. “Might as well put all the ache in one place.”

“That’s true.”

Daryl is huffing again, loud and as if he is actually protesting to their kidding around. “For the love of God stop.”

“Yeah Rick stop talking about the man’s ass.” He jokes, shoving at his friend’s side as they continue to walk further along the sewer line. “Some of us don’t want to be walkin’ ‘round with a stiffy in our pants. Least not if there’s no plan to make a use of it.” Pressing up against Daryl’s back he grabs onto his hips, giving a little thrusting motion until Daryl swats him off with a huff.

“Well we got time. And there are plenty of abandoned apartment buildings around here.” Rick always riles him up more, complains about his crude behaviour but then joins in on it alongside him. “Could go find ourselves a nice penthouse suite to enjoy for a while.”

“Stop.” Daryl mumbles again, but he seems a little disinterested now, pulling away from the two of them and peering into the darkness that lay down the tunnel ahead.

“Admit you want it too.” Shane goads him, standing where he is as Daryl steps further away to explore the unknown. “We’re all going a little stir crazy at home without any privacy.” He points out, because he knows it’s been tough lately, especially since Rick hasn’t found the courage to talk to his kids yet. It means everything really is kept behind closed doors in their hide away areas.

“Wouldn’t need so much privacy if someone wasn’t so loud.” Rick points out, giving a pointed look to Daryl when he moves away.

“He wouldn’t be so loud if you didn’t encourage him.” Shane replies.

“Seriously stop.” Daryl isn’t looking their way, instead he’s focussed on the darkness before him. “You hear that?” The hunter asks, and Shane rolls his eyes a little. They always had this, even when things were safe, when they were somewhere with no walkers, Daryl would be on edge at every little sound. Last time it had been a rat, the time before a loose floorboard, he wonders what it’ll be this time.

“Hear what?” He asks, but really he doesn’t care to know what they were going to be finding today.

“Listen.” Daryl snaps back, still on edge and clearly squinting down the tunnel further down from them as if he could see a damned thing down there.

He’s about to call Daryl to stop being so twitchy, when Rick places a hand to his side, getting him to calm down immediately. “I can feel it.” He friend mutters, one hand on Shane’s side and the other on the wall of the sewer. Shane follows suite, and when his palm is up against the cold concrete, he can feel what they’re talking about. It’s a vibration of some kind, faint but getting stronger with each passing second, building up and up until he can feel it start to pulse beneath his feet.

“What is it?” He asks, and as time passes he ca start to hear the noise too. A rumble, like thousands of tiny feet running down a hallway, all making it feel like an earthquake or something. Shane was pretty sure it wasn’t, but he’s lost as to what the hell else it could be.

“I dunno.” Daryl replies, and Shane can feel the vibrations and rumbles getting more intense. The hunter turns back to them, quick on his feet and glancing back towards the darkness every so often, but clearly not intending to go any further today. “But let’s not be here to find out.” He answers, and Shane is inclined to agree when the feeling and sound around them only intensifies.

Shane doesn’t care if they’re still far out of the city, he doesn’t care if they’re paranoid, because he knows something that can be felt as a rumble through the earth, was too big for them to handle. So they turn on their heels and start running, no shame in having fear these days. Fear is what keeps them alive. They move, the three of them able to keep pace with each other, able to cover a decent distance in a short time, and it’s not long before they can see the light of day at the end of the tunnel. It’s still raining, but compared to the darkness of the sewers, it’s bright as the sun itself. They all run, the three of them close, panting, stitches in their sides but still going because they know they cannot stop.

The rumble grows beneath their feet. He can feel the ground beneath them shaking. He can see the ripples in the water caused by it, and when one of the elements gets affected by something, he knows it’s big. They run together, hands brushing each other’s sides, trying to stay safe on the narrow footpaths as they try to outrun whatever is coming their way. Shane can feel it. He knows it’s behind them, and honestly he thinks himself an idiot for not realising what a dumbass idea it was to venture into the sewers when it’s been raining for almost a week straight.

“Damned sluice gates have burst.” He pants, cursing himself for being so damned dumb. Now here they were, trying to outrun the wave chasing them, all the floor waters of the city breaking their blockades since there were no people left to control them. The rumble beneath them feels like an earthquake, and he chances a glance behind himself as they close in on the exit. He wishes he hadn’t. “Move!” It’s like a tsunami coming at them, Shane’s never seen such a huge amount of water, but it’s heading their way and they need to get out of there.

They’re a couple of feet away from the exit when it hits them, and fuck it’s overwhelming. Like an all over punch to his whole body the water hits them, and Shane can’t focus on anything but the pain. He’s going to be bruised. Possibly forever, because it hurts that much. His breath is pushed out of him, the water sweeps him off his feet and it’s almost as if he’s flying for a moment, but through water. The force behind him is incredible, and there is nothing for him to grab or hang onto as the water bursts out the sewers and into the concrete channel.

Every part of him aches, and he’s so damned relieved when he can feel air on his skin again. The hit had knocked the air out of him, but he’d been swept to the side, up onto the higher banks and come to rest there as the water settles to a thick stream in the channel. Gasping for air he lies there for a while, soaking wet and feeling broken from the inside out. It’s like his body is just done, one huge bruise and trying to remember how to even work anymore. He’s shivering, the rain is still falling down on him but he can take that amount of water after what he’s just been through.

Rolling onto his back he takes the time to just breathe, blearily looking around himself to try and get his bearings. He can see the jeep, parked up high thank God, right at the top of the concrete bed they’re in. Shane coughs and he can feel the water drip off of himself as he tries to sit up, as he tries to stabilise himself and get his body out of the shock it’s just been through. The clouds are dark above him, full of more rain to pour down on them, thunder rolling somewhere off in the distance and he can’t help but groan as he tries to deal with the headache he’s now got.

“Shane!”

Blinking a little he knows that’s his name, but maybe shock is settling in or something, because his ears still feel like he’s trying to hear from underwater.

“Shane!”

Shaking himself a little he looks around, tries to locate who the hell was calling for him, and why they thought he cared right now when he was a little busy being half dead. Rolling onto his front, he coughs up a handful of water, stomach churning a little as he tries to keep down his breakfast. The concrete is hard beneath his palms as he shoves himself to his feet, staggering for a moment before he can work out where the yelling is coming from. And it hits him harder than the water when it all comes back to him.

Rick. Daryl. Fuck.

He knows human beings are resilient, but it’s like every ache and pain he’s feeling evaporates in a second, and leaves him ready to move. Shane runs, even if his legs were feeling like jelly a second ago, now he’s fine, and he’s up and moving and running because he has to. Because Rick is calling for him, pleading for him to get there, and Daryl is on the ground beside him.

And he’s not moving.

Falling to his knees besides Rick, years and years of emergency training goes rushing through his head. A jumble of words and actions that he can’t sort through quick enough because Daryl is on the ground and he’s soaked through, and not moving and Rick looks like he’s lost Lori all over again. “Shane.” Rick is there, one hand tangled in Daryl’s shirt, clearly how he’d grabbed the man and dragged him free from the water below to safety. He can see the wet drag marks, he can see where Rick had stumbled free with wet footprints, and how he’d ran down and dragged a still body out from the water and as far he could out of the danger zone. But it doesn’t mean shit right now because he can’t focus and, “He’s not breathing Shane.”

His heart stops right there and then. He swears it does because it feels like the whole world is stopped in its tracks as he tries to focus and figure out what to do. Rick is there beside him, one hand reaching out to him for help, for support, for anything because Daryl is so fucking still on the ground beside them. It can’t be real, doesn’t feel like it’s real at all, it just feels like he should turn around and have a camera crew hop out of nowhere and tell him he’d be punk’d. But instead it’s still, it’s quiet aside from the water rushing by, and Daryl isn’t breathing.

“Daryl!” And suddenly he’s kicked into gear and he’s moving, grabbing Daryl’s shirt with Rick and they’re turning him onto his back, getting him flat and even if he knows there is training somewhere in the back of his mind, it just feels instinctive to do what he can. “Come on Daryl.” He mutters, and he moves fast, doesn’t even have to think as he rips at Daryl’s shirtfront.

The buttons fly free easily, baring Daryl’s throat and chest as he grabs the hunter’s jaw and opens his mouth. Rick is there beside him, trembling, shaking, but he can’t think about Rick because Daryl needs action right now. Drowning. How to save someone after drowning. Air. Daryl needs air first, he knows that, and if he’s not breathing by himself then he needs someone to do it for him.

He tilts Daryl’s head to the side, watches the trickle of water slip free but there is nothing else there obstructing his airway. That’s good. He knows that should be good but right now he can’t remember why. There is no gentleness as he moves, grabbing Daryl’s head and tilting it back, opening his airway and praying to every God that will listen that he’s doing this right. Pinching Daryl’s nose, he fastens his own mouth over the other man’s, trying to get a tight seal and not think about how different this was to kissing him. Blowing deep and hard, he glances to the side to see if Daryl’s chest inflates at all from his efforts, but it’s difficult to see when he’s panicked, scared and holding back tears.

“More Shane, breathe harder.” But Rick is there, and like with every other aspect of their lives, they work together. Daryl is motionless, but Shane focuses on what he has to do, on what Rick tells him to do. “Keep going. More.” So he sucks in deep breaths through his nose, pushes them out through his mouth into Daryl’s lungs and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop even though it feels like forever.

Each breath hurts his fucking chest, it feels like something inside of him is being strained every time he breathes out into Daryl’s mouth, but he is not going to stop. He can feel Rick beside him, warm and real, a hand on his back and the other on Daryl’s chest. It’s easier to see Daryl’s ribcage move up and down this way, and he knows what he’s doing is making a difference even if it doesn’t feel like enough. Still there is no response against his mouth, no movement, not a twitch, nothing and it’s terrifying.

Pulling back he can’t let go of where he’s cradling Daryl’s head, making sure to keep his airway open, to try and coax him to just fucking breathe. He’s panting, his own breathing deep and desperate, and he’d do anything to see Daryl do the same right now. “Please.” He begs, he doesn’t know if it’s to Daryl or to God, but he begs all the same. “Please Daryl, don’t…”

He feels worked up and exhausted at the same time, trying to frantically think of what to do next and how to fix this sooner. Rick is there beside him, hands on Daryl’s chest, but he’s moving with a purpose, linking his hands together, kneeling higher, arms straight and determination in his eyes. “No. Not today Daryl.” Rick is begging too, both of them sound so desperate he thinks if there was ever a higher power listening, now would be the time they know it’s a pure plea for help. Shane watches as Rick begins pumping Daryl’s chest, his whole body moving with the motions, all his weight behind it. It looks like its vicious, painful, can only hurt, but if Daryl will wake up and yell at them for being so rough then he’ll take it.

Shane listens to Rick count to thirty, each pump quick and deep, evenly spaced and helping to get Daryl’s oxygenated blood to pump around his body and to his brain. There is a pause, a nod, and he’s back down, pinching Daryl’s nose, fastening his lips over the other man’s and breathing for him again. It hurts, his lungs ache but he keeps going, making sure to push as much air into Daryl’s body as possible. Then Rick is there again, pumping hard, getting Daryl’s lungs to do their job and move the oxygen around his body, even if Daryl couldn’t do it himself.

They’re there for him, they keep his body going through the motions, keep it working, keep it alive for him. Daryl’s heart is still pumping, there is still a pulse and Shane knows that it means they have a chance. Maybe it’s a small one, maybe they’ve been calling on small chances a lot lately, but it’s still hope, and he is not going to stop until all hope has run out.

He breathes harder for him, and when there is a twitch of movement against his lips, he pulls back for a second. Just as he thinks he imagined it, and goes in to give another breath, there is another twitch, a tremor and Daryl’s body heaves with a jolt as he vomits. It splashes up onto his face but Shane doesn’t care, because it’s something, it’s Daryl’s body responding to their actions and he knows they need more from him. Tilting Daryl’s head to the side he watches as he heaves up more water, murky, disgusting water that soon becomes tainted with partly digested food. He uses his fingers to scoop it free from Daryl’s mouth, trying to make sure he doesn’t start to choke on anything when he’s like this, helping with his body’s motion to expel everything inside of him. It’s disgusting, but it’s working, and he nods for Rick to pause in his compressions, to see if it was just Daryl’s body reacting to them, or if Daryl was actually coming round.

Shane holds his mouth open, still hunched over Daryl, watching for any other movements or signs of life. Daryl’s body is trembling a little, but he heaves, and when Shane and Rick roll him onto his side, he vomits a couple of times more before groaning. The sound makes him smile, and when Daryl’s eyes flutter beneath his eyelids, followed by the shaky sound of him drawing in a huge breath, Shane feels like crying in relief.

Daryl gasps. They keep him on his side for a moment, both sets of their hands on him, stopping him from moving too fast or rolling away from them. “Daryl stay down.” He instructs him, hands still pawing over him, cradling his face, making sure he can feel each and every time Daryl’s chests goes up and down with a breath of his own. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He doesn’t know if he’s reassuring himself or Daryl, but he keeps repeating himself, keeps telling them all that Daryl is okay.

He knows it’s not over. Daryl is breathing, and that’s a huge step in the right direction, but he’d not been breathing for a few minutes, and he knows that can cause a lot of problems. But they’re alive, they’re here and Daryl is definitely conscious, definitely breathing under his own power, definitely blinking hard, trying to clear his head and work out what the hell happened. Daryl moans, and he looks so damned confused, as if there are no words he can ask that might fit the situation. He looks lost, and Shane just wants to fix everything for him and make everything better.

“We need to get home.” Rick tells them both, all three of them are shaking but he can’t tell if it’s from the fear, the cold, or the adrenaline. But Shane agrees, because it’s still raining, pouring down more freezing water on top of them and that can’t be doing them any good. Still he cups his hands, gathering the water and splashing his own face free of vomit before making sure to help wash Daryl face too. The other man still seems so out of it, so vacant. Shane has to tilt his head up for him, keeping Daryl’s mouth open so he can get enough rain to rinse out his mouth from the taste of bile. Daryl shivers, coughs, but he does it, even if he still looks so confused. They need to get Daryl back to the prison, back to Hershel and Doctor S. who would have more idea how to prevent any complications from happening and know what Daryl needed right now. So he nods, and when he thinks he can get his shaking legs beneath him, Shane stands, helping Rick to his feet before they both move to help up Daryl.

“What h-happened?” Daryl is asking them, his fingers grasping at their shirts, trying to get his balance but between the three of them it’s a stumbling mess of limbs and shaking. None of them are well, but he and Rick are better off than Daryl, and he knows they need to take a lead and control this situation. “R-Rick? Shane?” His voice is small, lost and afraid, but he holds him tighter, and they both keep Daryl pressed between them as they make their way to the jeep. It’s hard work, but as soon as they get there they’re fumbling at the door, grateful that they always leave the keys inside the jeep and not on their person, so there is no worry about having lost them.

All their backpacks are gone, but he couldn’t care less. They’ve all still got their sidearms, and he’s glad Daryl hadn’t taken his bow with them. Because dealing with a half dead Daryl was bad enough, but dealing with a half dead Daryl who was bitching about losing his prized possession would be chaos. They get inside the car, each one of them still dripping with both rainwater and the flood wave, hair plastered to their heads and leaving them all trembling. Usually when they drive, it’s only bare essentials, but today they crank up the heater to full blast and don’t even care to think about gas wasted by it.

Shane knows he is not the best with medical crap, but he remembers some training, he remembers sitting through lectures and having to answer dumb quizzes to pass. Daryl is breathing, but he hadn’t been before, and he’d been drowned, there were a lot of complications that could arise from that. Shit, both he and Rick could still go downhill from just being submerged fully for a while. Rick is in the driver’s seat, already revving the engine to help it warm up faster, but he knows the other man is still like him, partly in shock and still running on adrenaline.

“Hypothermia.” He murmurs, already beginning to tug and yank at the soaking ripped shirt fabric still clinging to Daryl where he’s wedged between them. “We’ve gotta warm up.” Shane follows suite, yanking off his own shirt, reaching out to tug at Rick’s, wanting him to copy him and make the job easier. It’s awkward, it’s difficult in the tiny space of the jeep cab, but he manages to get himself down to his pants, Rick the same on his side. Daryl is still trembling, looking so confused and wheezing a little, holding at the side of his chest and cringing. “Daryl we gotta get warm.” He reiterates, tossing their soaking wet shirts behind them into the footwell and out of the way for now.

“What happened?” Daryl asks again, seeming in a daze, unable to focus, and almost like he thinks he’s dreaming. Shane’s pretty sure he’s gotta be confused, probably feeling exhausted, but they need to keep focussed here. “How’d I hurt my side?”

Shaking his head, Shane tries to hush him, nudging for Rick to get them home as fast as possible, and glad that speed limits didn’t count for shit anymore. They always have supplies in every vehicle, just in case, always just in case and he thanks God that they’re always prepared for the worst. Yanking the blanket free he wraps it around all three of them, making them huddle together tighter, bare flesh pressed together and transferring body heat to help keep their temperatures up. The jeep moves fast, Rick with his foot to the floor but still being careful, each of them not caring about their lack of supplies as they begin the trip home.

It’s terrifying, and Shane keeps Daryl close, keeps a hand on Rick’s shoulder and makes sure they’re all shoved together as close as can be. He can feel Daryl’s heartbeat, can feel every breath, and can feel every little sign that he is alive and real and here with them both. “You weren’t breathing.” He finally tells Daryl, curling into him, almost dragging the other man into his lap just to feel him, to reassure himself that he is breathing and alive now. “We had to do CPR.”

“Probably broke a rib.” Rick adds in, one hand on the wheel and the other beneath the blanket, pressed with Shane’s to Daryl’s back, to feel each breath. “Had to- Had to be hard to- To get you back.” He can hear the horror, the terror and the pure shock in Rick’s voice, how it’s all sinking in just how close it had been. How close it still was until they could get Daryl checked over and stabilised at home. “You- You just weren’t breathing Daryl.”

Wrapping an arm around Daryl’s waist, Shane doesn’t even try to be subtle anymore. Instead he shifts them, moves them until Daryl is on his lap, is pressed up against Rick’s side and buried between them both and wrapped in the blanket. He kisses at his shoulder, over the back of his neck, and just tries to reassure himself every second that Daryl his here and real and breathing. He’s alive and he’s with them.

Daryl is shivering, but even if it’s not a good sign, it’s still a sign, and he knows that Daryl’s body has to be fighting to give such a response. But he looks so small, still drenched and wet, still breathing but looking so beaten up and ravaged. “I was dead?”

“No.” Shane shakes his head, kisses beneath Daryl’s ear and nips at the skin of his neck, scrapes his teeth over his flesh to makes a mark, to feel how alive he is. “You still had a pulse, you just weren’t breathing. But we fixed it.” He knows that’s all CPR is good for. He knows they’d just had to help Daryl’s body breathe for a while. He knows that it was terrifying and in the world they live in now, dying meant more than just staying dead. “You weren’t dead.” He wasn’t dead, Daryl hadn’t died, so he was not going to become a walker. He couldn’t. He was alive and here and real and fine.

But he can feel the fear between them all. The worry about the unknown, and he knows that Daryl is going to be resting for the next few days, but he’ll be doing it under someone’s watch at all times. There is no real knowledge about the virus, about the walkers, so they will all be careful and hope that since Daryl hadn’t technically died, he wasn’t going to be experiencing any symptoms of the infection. It’s a fear, and he just holds Daryl tighter, presses another kiss to his shoulder and grips Rick’s fingers tightly for some reassurance.

They drive. All three of them not moving away from being pressed so close together, blanket around them, keeping in the body heat and hopefully staving off any problems for now. It’s always the three of them together. They work as a team, only a team, and it’s one that can’t be broken. It’s one that he doesn’t want to lose now when they’d only just gotten it together. They’re a team, the three of them, and it works with them all together, all three. They can’t lose one now.

He can feel Rick’s fingers squeeze around his own, trying to be a comfort, trying to give him strength when all he feels is fear. It’s awful. It churns inside of him with each heartbeat, making him feel sick and tired and so damned determined that they’re going to make it through this. Daryl is still shivering in his arms, but his lips aren’t blue, he’s still conscious, he can feel the pain in his broken rib, and he’s maybe not alert, but he’s aware and that’s a good sign. Shane knows that usually someone would have to go to the emergency room after CPR, but that’s not an option, all they have is the prison and the people there.

Everyday is stressful for them, even just a day inside the walls of the prison is spent making sure they’re got everything needed to survive another day. But the complete and utter lack of control from the last few minutes has exhausted him. Shane knows he’s shaking, emotions and stress overwhelming him, but he knows he needs to keep it together and be strong right now for all of them.

Rick pulls the truck over, leaving the engine running and the heaters on. When his friend tries to untangle his fingers from Shane’s own, he resists, not wanting to lose any contact when he needs it so badly. But Rick only pulls away to press closer, reaching out both hands to cup his face and pull him in to a deep kiss. It’s sloppy, and harsh, full of tears, fear and worry, but it helps. Rick swipes a tongue over his lips, dips it inside of his mouth to taste him, and he closes his eyes to hang onto the feeling of connection between them. Rick is here, right by his side, sharing his heat and here to steady him through this.

“We’re okay.” Rick tells him, his voice so damned certain and sure of it all. “We’re okay. It’s gonna be okay, we’re fine.” He says, and Shane nods, even if he’s not sure he believes it fully yet.

Between them Daryl shivers again, leaning into their heat with a slight mewl of want. None of them think this is the time for one of their private meetings, but they need this, the reassurance that they’re all still here and alive. Sometimes words won’t cut it, and when he feels this hollow and afraid, Shane knows he needs more. And he knows Rick is the same.

Their hands skate over Daryl’s body gently, a real contrast to the violence they’d had to use on his earlier. But this isn’t then, Daryl is breathing, Daryl is here and real and in their arms together. Daryl mumbles words of understanding, his voice soft and weak, fragile but still there. It makes Shane hold him more, not tightly, not tight enough to hurt or add more bruises to Daryl’s already tainted flesh, but just to know he’s there. Moving back from Rick’s kisses, he begins nipping and pressing open mouthed kisses over Daryl’s shoulder, tasting him, feeling him, knowing he’s alive and here. If he moves to his neck he can feel each breath, with each small suck of a kiss he can feel Daryl breathing, his chest moving, his throat flexing and keeping him alive and stable.

It makes him whimper himself, and when he opens his eyes he can see Rick on the other side of Daryl’s throat, copying him, doing the same and reassuring himself that he is breathing. Their hands roam over Daryl’s body, feeling the swell of his chest, the shivers that run over his skin from the shaking, and the heat that comes off of him. It feels good, it feels safe and real and he loves when Daryl lets a tiny moan slip free from his lips. It’s not about sex, this is not about getting off or anything. It’s about surviving.

Right now they are together, and each time he feels Daryl’s skin against his palm, or Rick’s stubble graze over his arm as they move against each other, he feels alive. He can kiss over Daryl’s neck, can feel his pulse beneath his lips, can taste the mix of rainwater and sweat, and he just feels so real in his arms. A part of his mind won’t stop playing back those minutes outside on repeat, making him think of how pliable Daryl’s body had been when he’d been like that. But now is such a contrast, because Daryl moves against them eagerly, still shivering, but he moves by himself, with purpose.

The smaller man is practically on both of their laps, wriggling his way to face them, trying to squirm closer and touch them both all over. The blanket stays around them, only encasing more body heat and keeping them warm, away from the danger zone of hypothermia. Shane kisses Rick again, feeling the stubble he now always has, but tasting the same flavour that is just pure Rick. Daryl bumps his mouth against theirs clumsily, trying to nudge his way in, greedy as always and wanting more. Wanting them. Of course they’re always happy to oblige. The kiss is awkward, always is with three pair of lips, but it still feels better. Complete.

As Rick moves to kiss Daryl hungrily, Shane attacks the hunter’s neck again, loving the feeling of Daryl’s breathing beneath his lips. Each rise and fall makes it easier to breathe for all of them, and he can hear the beautiful panting Daryl makes as he’s kissed all over by them both. Rick gives a small moan, his fingers cup at Daryl’s chin and jaw enough that Shane can lift his head enough to kiss at those fingers, to lick over them and know that Rick is there too. Sandwiched between their bodies, Daryl is warming up, they all still feel damp from the wetness, but they’re coddled together, sharing heat and so much more right now.

When they wriggle closer, Daryl buries into Shane’s neck, clearly a mix of overwhelmed an exhausted. But they all know he shouldn’t sleep, not yet, not until they know for certain that he’s alright. Rick presses a final kiss to their hunter’s temple before turning back to the wheel, taking the jeep out of park and getting them back on the way home. Shane continues holding Daryl, letting him rest, but not letting him sleep, pressing lazy kisses to his shoulders every so often and checking in his pulse, his breathing. Daryl grunts every time he does it in annoyance, but he has a feeling the other man that it’s all just from fear and worry.

Shane is still afraid that maybe it hadn’t been enough. They could get home and Daryl could get ill, could get worse, there might be brain damage from the lack of oxygen for a while, but he hopes they were fast enough. Hopes they were good enough to stop that from happening. All he knows is that whatever happens, whatever the outcome, or the difficulties, they’re going to be there. Both of them will be there for Daryl and for each other. They’re going to get through it. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this is only prompt 2/12. They're getting a lot longer than I anticipated, but I don't want to leave them half assed. So it might take more time for updates as you all know, but thank you all for being so patient with me. I appreciate all the feedback I get, and again, thank you all for being so supportive, love to you all and hope you enjoy! <3


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